thou him at my hands; so that many an one of men that shall be hereafter
may shudder to wrong his host that hath shown him kindness."

So said he, and poised his far-shadowing spear, and hurled, and smote on
the round shield of the son of Priam. Through the bright shield went the
ponderous spear and through the inwrought breastplate it pressed on; and
straight beside his flank the spear rent the tunic, but he swerved and
escaped black death. Then Atreides drew his silver-studded sword, and
lifted up his hand and smote the helmet-ridge; but the sword shattered
upon it into three, yea four, and fell from his hand. Thereat Atreides
looked up to the wide heaven and cried: "Father Zeus, surely none of the
gods is crueller than thou. Verily I thought to have gotten vengeance on
Alexandros for his wickedness, but now my sword breaketh in my hand, and
my spear sped from my grasp in vain, and I have not smitten him."

So saying, he leapt upon him and caught him by his horse-hair crest, and
swinging him round dragged him towards the well-greaved Achaians; and he
was strangled by the embroidered strap beneath his soft throat, drawn
tight below his chin to hold his helm. Now would Menelaos have dragged
him away and won glory unspeakable, but that Zeus' daughter Aphrodite
was swift to mark, and tore asunder for him the strap of slaughtered
ox's hide; so the helmet came away empty in his stalwart hand. Thereat
Menelaos cast it with a swing toward the well-greaved Achaians, and his
trusty comrades took it up; and himself sprang back again eager to slay
him with spear of bronze. But Aphrodite snatched up Paris, very easily
as a goddess may, and hid him in thick darkness, and sent him down in
his fragrant perfumed chamber; and herself went to summon Helen. Her she
found on the high tower, and about her the Trojan women thronged. So
with her hand she plucked her perfumed raiment and shook it and spake to
her in the likeness of an aged dame, a wool-comber that was wont to work